’Blackbird Blackbird Blackberry’: Cannes Review

Dir: Elene Naveriani. Switzerland, Georgia, Germany. 2023. 110mins

The promise of romance changes everything in Blackbird Blackbird Blackberry, the third feature from Elena Naveriani which paints an endearing, bittersweet portrait of an independent woman at the mercy of society’s entrenched expectations. An irresistible central performance from Eka Chavleishvili adds to the appeal of a film that should readily connect with audiences who embraced titles like Sebastian Lelio’s Gloria (2013) or Blandine Lenoir’s I Got Life (2017). 

 Matches the melancholy romanticism of an Aki Kaurismaki film with the delights of an Elizabeth Stroud novel

In any American production, the character of Etero would be earmarked for Frances McDormand. A prickly, self-sufficient woman, Etero runs a small store in a rainswept backwater of Georgia. She has carved a life for herself after the emotional traumas of her childhood, and now lives a solitary existence of settled routine. Regular trips to a nearby town always entail a visit to a cafe, a coffee with milk and a millefeuille. 

Picking blackberries on a mountainside, she narrowly escapes a fatal accident. The experience leaves her shaken and unusually carefree. When delivery driver Murman (Temiko Chinchinadze) arrives that afternoon, they wind up having sex. She casually notes that this reckless moment marks the end of her 48 years of virginity. Her routine continues but something has fundamentally altered in the fabric of her life. Visions of her death in key moments of the film lead us to wonder what regrets she might harbour.

The other women of the village provide a Greek chorus of comment and criticism. They regard Etero with a mixture of curiosity, pity and derision. She seems an affront to them and they rarely miss an opportunity to put her in her place. “We raised children for our country, “ one of them proudly asserts. They gleefully rush to the conclusion that her hot flushes and blood pressure issues are probably the onset of the menopause. Moments of friendship and solidarity are rare but feel more touching because of that.

Chavleishvili is a delight as Etero. Her beady look and alert Bette Davis eyes make her a formidable presence. He reputation is intimidating but she exudes the certainty of someone who has chosen her path and stuck with it. She dreams of a retirement where she can read books, improve her English and build a little house with a big terrace. The warmth or Chavleishvili’s performance is matched by the amber glow of the summer light in Agnesh Pakozdi’s cinematography, an eclectic soundtrack that ranges from the Charles Aznavour song ’Emmenez-Moi’ to tracks by Robi Kukhianidze, and a colour palette that favours blocks of reds, rust and terracotta.

Naveriani’s previous film Wet Sand (2021) won an acting prize for Gia Agumava at Locarno and it’s not difficult to imagine similar rewards ahead for Chavleishvili (who also featured in Wet Sand). She invests Etero with a steeliness and a sense of wonder as she experiences middle-aged love. She looks at her body with fresh eyes, delights in the discovery of the poems that Murman has written for her.  “How did you become kind dog among all these wolves?” she asks him. She is the heart of a witty, plaintive adaptation of the Tamta Melashvili novel that matches the melancholy romanticism of an Aki Kaurismaki film with the delights of an Elizabeth Stroud novel.

Murman is left smitten by their afternoon tryst. He is a married man but he professes his love in anguished looks and tender words. A clandestine affair develops leaving Etero with the dilemma of whether what it adds to her life makes it worth the sacrifice of her independence. The theme of how an unmarried woman represents some kind of threat or insult to a patriarchal society is explored throughout with sly humour. A final twist adds an extra layer of poignancy to the future that Etero now faces.